Needing it bad

The bruises from my last time with Miss have sadly faded. Fortunately, the last time i offered my slim arm to her teeth, Miss was so vicious that she broke the skin. This hasn't healed yet. I am glad of it. The tiny knobble of scabby skin is something I can touch, something that verifies her mark. It's nice and easier to feel than my bruises. 

But it's fading too and i need replacements badly. To be shaved and dressed again. To be abused, put in my straight jacket and made to endure hours of therapy, finished off with some cruel polishing and palming. 

But woe, ma belle Tyrante is not feeling well. 

I am full of sympathy and affection for her and pester her from afar to eat properly, rest up and take her meds. 

But I also need. 

I need bad things again, badly.

It's got so as I have been slapping my own face throughout the day. One slap each cheek. Then  when the heat subsided, doing it again.

And again.

Sets out the kind of mood I'm in. 

Firm treatment, firm but unfair. 

Cleaned up in the bath with the long handle. Pelvis scrubbed pink while Miss holds me steady with one hand around my balls.    

Hand over my mouth restricting my breathing to a frantic trickle while Miss bites her teeth into my arm again to leave fresh marks on me.

Dragging me upright on the sofa after therapy by looping my belt around my neck and hauling me choking to my feet. 

These and other foolishnesses boil and bubble in my head while my poor Miss wallows at home stricken low. 

Sorry Miss I can't help it, but when you are strong again and fit you can deal with me appropriately I am sure. 

I just hope it'll be soon.

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